Aftermath
by LexiInTheSkyWithDiamonds
Summary: In the year following Voldemort's death, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny embark on their seventh year at Hogwarts in, what they believe to be, peace.
1. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

**After nearly sixteen years of anticipation, one of the most powerful wizards of all time by the name of Tom Riddle was killed. "Who could possibly abolish someone so notorious?" those who live under rocks may ask. Not an abominable sorcerer or a horrifying creature, but a seventeen-year-old boy.**

** Harry Potter strolled through the door of the Three Broomsticks two minutes early for our meeting. He gave a firm handshake and spoke with the eloquence of someone twice his age. After ordering a butterbeer, a personal favorite of his, he politely asked me not to use my Quick-Quotes Quill, as he mentioned an unpleasant past experience with one. His eyes informed me to ask no further questions on the manner.**

Harry imagined this was what journalist Anabelle Chadwick scribbled into her notepad as he sat smack-dab in the center of the Three Broomsticks vertical to her. Although this was bliss compared to Rita Skeeter's muckrakes, Harry had never been fond of interviews.

"Did your experience as a Gryffindor influence your ability to complete the task of defeating the Dark Lord?" Anabelle asked him. She had not yet approached the juicier questions; she still had to get him comfortable.

Harry cleared his throat. "I suppose so. When I was a second year, the sword of Gryffindor appeared to me and saved my life. It would do the same for any Gryffindor." Harry paused, realizing how invalid his response was. He continued, as if he was reading from a script, "Gryffindor taught me how to be brave in even the most terrifying of situations. That helped in the end."

The moment of pause that Anabelle took to scribble in her notepad seemed infinite. Harry looked around the pub, pretending not to be phased by the stares and whispers surrounding them.

"What or whom do you have to thank for your triumph and success?"

"Er, I have a lot of people to thank, I suppose. All of my teachers at Hogwarts literally taught me everything that I know, er, and my friends motivated me to never give up." The question was very vague, so, feeling guilty to have forgotten specifics, he added, "My friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, were probably the most important people on my journey."

"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger were the two who joined you, is that correct?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Specifically, how did they add to your triumph?"

Harry smiled a bit. His friends meant more to him than anything in the world. "My friends are brilliant, I really can't even put their skills into words." Wracking his brain for a moment, he responded, "Ron has been my best friend since I stepped onto the Hogwarts Express during my first year. His logic and strategy have always been useful. He has always supported me. He has stuck by me through thick and thin." Harry purposely "forgot" to mention Ron's abandonment on the horcrux hunt and Ron's jealousy during the Triwizard Tournament, but Harry supposed some things were better left unsaid.

"And Ms. Granger?"

"Hermione is… truly brilliant. She was the top of our class and somewhat of a teachers' pet, but she isn't just one-dimensional. She's very quick on the spot and good at solving things, which was essential in the long run."

Harry's thoughts filled with memories of his friends. He thought of summers at the Burrow, where they played Quidditch on the Weasleys' lawn and stayed up late, discussing Hogwarts and their young lives. He thought of nights in the common room, pretending that they were looking at Hermione's homework to "check their answers" when they were actually copying her responses word for word and playing Exploding Snap after everyone had left for bed. He thought of classes, watching Hermione take rigorous notes while Harry tried to muffle Ron's snores with coughs.

Anabelle took a sip of her sparkling pumpkin juice and licked the liquid from her lips before parting them to ask the next question. "What exactly did this process entail?"

All of Harry's memories cleared themselves from his head. Memories of drinking Polyjuice Potion, casting Unforgivable Curses, and living with the burden that everyone was dying for him, filled their places.

"Well, it was a long, grueling process."

"The readers would love to hear about it, Mr. Potter," Anabelle persisted, politely.

"Harry," he corrected her.

**Such a modest boy.**

"Right. Well, please share, Harry."

Harry relived each harsh reality that he had faced the year before. However, he held in everything that could potentially cause trouble. "Ron, Hermione, and I left with a task to destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes. A horcrux is something that someone can put a piece of their soul into, so that when the person is killed, they don't actually die. Er… but I'm sure you know that.Anyway, we traveled endlessly, trying to find and destroy them."

Anabelle did not look satisfied by his brief response. "Harry, we all want to know details. _What _made the voyage so difficult? _Who _stood in your way? _How _did you manage to find all of these horcruxes?"

Harry felt uncomfortable. Sharing too much information would either get him thrown into Azkaban or cause even more unnecessary admiration amongst the wizard world. It was a lose-lose situation.

"The long periods of time and persistence made the task difficult. The Death Eaters and Snatchers stood in our way, of course. And… what was the last question again?"

"How-"

"Oh right, how we found them. We thought of places that meant a lot to Voldemort and searched hard. There is really no other explanation, Anabelle. If you want to find out more, then I apologize, because there really isn't much more to it than that," Harry explained. He knew he was being stubborn, but he felt that he had no other choice.

Anabelle shot him a very false grin before clearing her throat and continuing. "Where did the Dark Lord place these items?"

Harry gazed at Anabelle. Her young, clear face looked a bit concerned, perhaps because he was not being as upfront as she thought he would be.

"Anabelle, if you're going to talk about him, call him Voldemort. You sound like one of _them_ when you refer to him as the Dark Lord," Harry clarified.

"Alright, Harry," Anabelle replied, shortly but sweetly.

**The boy uses the Dark Lord's name frequently, potentially suggesting a rebellious, careless side to him.**

The idea of this quote made Harry pause. "Er, yes, the question. Some were in random locations, but most of them were at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Anabelle tilted her head. "Isn't Hogwarts considered one of the most guarded places in the wizarding world?"

"Yes, and that's why they were placed there."

Anabelle nodded slowly. "Do you think you'll go back to Hogwarts in the fall? You still have one more year to go."

Harry looked away. To be honest, he hadn't even thought about whether or not he would go back. Everything would be completely different, but Hogwarts was his first true home.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll decide soon, I'm sure," he replied, a bit quietly.

"Elaborate on how those years were."

Harry's face lightened up again. His Hogwarts years would be his most cherished in the long run. "Hogwarts was spectacular. Not only did I learn loads, but I met a bunch of interesting people there."

"Like whom?"

"Well, all of my friends, some teachers who have taught me well, and…" His voice broke off.

"And…?" Anabelle urged him.

"Professor Dumbledore…" Harry murmured.

Anabelle's face appeared somewhat satisfied. It was clear that she had finally got her story.

"Were you close with Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded slowly. "He was my role model."

Anabelle scribbled into her notebook. "He was murdered, yes?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It was his time to go."

Anabelle choked on her drink. "Excuse me?"

"He was going to die anyway." He stopped himself abruptly. "I've said enough."

Anabelle tapped her quill in irritation. "Harry, I—"

Harry started to get out of his seat. The knowledge of Snape's disloyalty to the Death Eaters and loyalty to Dumbledore was to be confidential, even if both of them were dead.

"I'm sorry, Anabelle, but if you're trying to get this type of information out of me, I'm not ready to share it."

"But—"

"Listen!" Harry interrupted. "When I'm ready, I'll write to you."

Anabelle's eyes lit up. "Would you eventually be interested in, say, a biography? The Daily Prophet wouldn't be involved, not to worry." The idea sounded like it would only benefit her, but Harry played along.

Harry chuckled. "I'm talking years, Anabelle." Seeing the excited expression on her face, he added, "I'll have to get back to you on that one."

With a polite goodbye, Harry departed the Three Broomsticks. As he walked out, he noticed that the pub was completely silent. Everyone's eyes were glued to him, watching his every movement. This spooked Harry a bit, but he brushed it off and hastily exited.

Harry was at ease, in a light T-shirt and jeans, walking in the mid-May air. He glanced down at his shoes, black Converse trainers, which were tattered from the battle. The last time he looked at them, he was approaching the forest, where the Death Eaters patiently waited as he walked to his death.

Looking around, he noticed that the shops in Diagon Alley were starting to become their normal selves again. Flourish and Blotts had booming business, which was abnormal for mid-May. Eeylops Owl Emporium displayed young, rejuvenated owls.

The sight of this gave Harry a pang in his chest as he remembered his good friend, Hedwig. She had always been by his side, whether she was sitting in her cage, "listening" to him speak, nipping his finger when he was doing something that she disapproved of, or promptly sending letters back and forth. Directing his attention to something else, anything else, he dropped the subject from his mind.

Even Ollivander's was reopened, but still a bit under-the-weather, as the owner himself had just barely come out of hiding. It was sparsely populated, due to the fact that wand business was most popular during the late summer months.

He felt his own wand in his pocket. It had followed him through thick and thin. He had sent it to get fixed right when the battle ended, allowing him to continue to use the thing that had saved him from dementors, endless tasks during the Triwizard Tournament, and dark wizards over the years.

He reflected on the day with Hagrid in Diagon Alley for the first time after leaving the Dursleys', when his wand found him. It was the moment he realized that he was, without a doubt, a wizard.

Unexpectedly, a few drops of rain began to fall from the sky, onto his forehead. The sky remained clear and blue, but little bits of rain fell unmercifully, as if the sky was crying on him.

Small children and their parents ran for cover under awnings and inside shops, but Harry continued to walk, unaffected by the weather change.

He watched his feet step through puddles, sending small splashes of water to the fabric on his shoes. He felt the dampness of the ground squish against the bottom of his feet.

Looking up, he saw one shop that had not yet been reestablished since the end of the war. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was dark and abandoned. All of the shop's color seemed to be drained from it since the last time Harry had seen it.

Strangely, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was one of the last shops to close on account of the increasing dark magic following Dumbledore's death. Harry thought, for sure, that it would be one of the first ones opened.

Harry suddenly became overwhelmed with emotions. Fred's death during the battle took a big toll on the Weasley family, particularly George. It would be a miracle if the shop reopened at all.

The rain subsided a bit, causing more people to come outdoors.

"It's him! The boy who lived!"

After seven years of hearing that name on a daily basis, Harry Potter had grown immune to it. Part of him wanted to cheek, "I've got a name, you know." The other, somewhat egotistical, side wanted to address himself as "the boy who lived again." But every time, he shut his mouth and smiled for another photo-op.

He seldom went to heavily populated areas anymore, as a commotion almost always resulted. Photographers swarmed him like mosquitoes on a damp summer night. With every flash that went off, he winced.

_Brilliant, _he would think to himself. _I'll be seeing spots for a week _and _I'll look like an arse on the cover of the Prophet._

Rambunctious fans, especially witches, were star struck as Harry agreed to sign scraps of parchment or pose for pictures with them. Ginny, in particular, found this to be quite amusing.

The publicity did not seem to phase Harry at all. The reporters who called him a "miracle boy" seemed to have the same effect as those who called him "a complete fraud." In public, he held his head high and took the fans with a grain of salt.

In private, on the contrary, Harry was hiding things that no reporters or photographers knew. What lay beyond every photograph, smile, and publicity stunt was unknown by most.

His eyes were red from crying himself to sleep every night. His thoughts consisted of regret for allowing so many friends to die for him during the Battle at Hogwarts. His scar had not hurt since Voldemort's fall, but he would have chosen physical pain over what he was feeling emotionally in a heartbeat. He had trouble opening up, leaving him with conclusions that he was alone through this….

Harry continued to have nightmares.

••••••••••••••••••••

Readers,

This is my first attempt at a Rowling-length story. The first chapter is a bit dull, but I assure you, the plot will get more enticing as time progresses. Also, contrary to this chapter, the story ismostly from the perception of Ron and Hermione.

Keep reading and _please _review!

-Lexi


	2. Check

**Check**

Ron was in it for the Wizard Card.

Mr. and Mrs. Flume, cofounders of Honeydukes candy shop, wrote to the trio only days after the war, nearly begging them to be featured on Wizard Cards, which would appear in Chocolate Frog packages across the country. Ron was the first to reply, of course, so willing that he spelled his own last name incorrectly.

He could not wait to add his own face to the massive collection of cards that were stored in crates under his bed.

"Ron, get that smug look off your face. It's distracting me!" Ginny shot at him from the opposite side of the coffee table.

Ron brought his mind back to his and Ginny's game of Wizards' Chess. He was too zoned out to notice her valiant knight destroying his queen.

"You're playing like bollocks today." She laughed as she moved the shattered piece from the board. "Even _I _am beating you."

"I, er, have a lot on my mind right now," he replied, regaining his concentration again and retaliating on her knight with a conveniently placed bishop.

Hermione, who was daintily curled up in an armchair, looked at him with a smile on her face for a moment before returning to the book that lay in her hands. She looked completely irresistible without even trying. The way she licked her finger before turning the page—

"Ron, are you listening?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"What?" he asked, dumbly.

"I said 'check.' Merlin, you're thick."

Ron glanced down at the amateur maneuver on her part before getting up. "I forfeit." He walked over to sit on the arm of Hermione's chair and put his arm around her tenderly.

"Fine, then. I suppose family _doesn't _come first with you!" Ginny dramatically protested.

"Oi, what did I miss?" a voice called from the kitchen. Harry was just getting in from his interview with the Daily Prophet. He joined them in the sitting room and sat on the couch beside Ginny.

"Harry, you're all wet!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione raised her wand at him, and without saying a word, instantly dried Harry off. She proudly placed her wand back in her pocket.

"I see you've mastered nonverbal spells, Hermione," Ron noted, impressed.

"_Anyway_, you haven't missed much, just me creaming Ron at chess," Ginny gleefully responded, giving her dry boyfriend a greeting peck on the lips.

Harry chuckled. "How the hell did that happen, mate?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess I was just distracted, that's all."

Hermione's cheeks darkened with flattery.

"How did the interview go?" Ron questioned.

Harry shrugged. "It was what it was. She made me feel really uncomfortable and gave me way too much credit. It wasn't the time or the place for something like that. I dunno."

"You mentioned me in it, though, right?" Ron wondered, causing Hermione to give him a light smack on the stomach.

"Of course, mate." Harry smiled.

"What else?" Only a witch as clever as Hermione could see the concern that lay deep in Harry's eyes.

He paused, ridding the happiness from his face. "She mentioned Dumbledore."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione gasped.

"It's alright, Hermione. I didn't tell her anything big. The horcruxes and locations were kept confidential," Harry ensured them.

"That's a bloody relief." Ron exhaled deeply. "I really wasn't in the mood to have a few Gringott's officials send us off to Azkaban under charges of breaking-and-entering."

"And using the Imperius Curse." Hermione added, ashamedly.

Ginny's head whipped toward Harry. "You did _what_?"

Harry froze up. That was one thing he had forgotten to tell Ginny. Quickly, his finger shot in Ron's direction. "Ron did it, too!"

"Hey, selling out your best mate to his sister? Doesn't that break blokes' code?" Ron playfully shot back.

"And not telling me breaks couples' code," Ginny added.

"Be quiet, you two," Hermione interjected. "I want to hear more about the interview."

"I stormed out," Harry mentioned, lightly.

"_What_?" Hermione almost shouted. "Harry, that's so unprofessional."

Harry sighed. "The questions were becoming too personal. It was either storm out or risk sharing too much information with her. Plus, she was too star struck to give negative feedback."

The rest nodded in understanding.

After a moment of silence, Ron addressed Harry again. "So, what _did _you say about me?"

"That you're a dumbarse who makes wanking noises in your sleep," Harry joked.

Hermione burst out laughing. "You're right, Harry! He completely does!"

"I do not," Ron replied with timid defense.

"Sorry, Ron, but one of the only things that kept me upbeat when we were away was listening to your hilarious snoring when we all camped out together. Harry and I sometimes purposely stayed up later than we should have just to laugh at how funny you sounded," Hermione admitted, but as his ears began to grow red, she added, "I'm in the process of learning a spell that silences snoring, don't worry."

The sounds of heavy footsteps descending the stairs quieted them for a moment. Mrs. Weasley entered the den and stood before them, grinning.

"Hello, Harry! How are you? How did the interview go?" she pleasantly asked him.

"It was fine," Harry replied, politely. "Just fine."

"You know," she began. "Anabelle Chadwick is considered to be one of the wizarding world's most celebrated reporters."

"Along with Rita Skeeter, the bumbling beetle," Ron added.

The rest of them laughed. Even Mrs. Weasley had an amused expression as she responded.

"Yes, Ron, the wizarding world has had its blunders in the past, but it's all uphill from here. The Death Eaters' power has immensely declined and the Ministry is going back to its old ways." There was an underlying hope in her voice.

"Of discriminating mudbloods and house-elves, no doubt," Hermione shot, her voice shaking a bit.

Ron turned his head in her direction, looking in her eyes, reassuringly. "Don't ever call yourself that, Hermione. It's terrible."

"I know, it's a disgusting word, but don't expect the usage of it to decrease now that Voldemort is dead."

Mrs. Weasley solemnly smiled at her. "You're a fantastic witch, Hermione. Don't let a few individuals change your mind."

Hermioned did not look phased. This upset Ron.

"I'm going to start preparing dinner now, so tell me if you need something." Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together and disappeared into the kitchen.

The room was quiet for a minute, overwhelming the four of them.

"Er, Harry?"

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Could you help me find something upstairs?"

"What is it?"

Ginny elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ouch! Er, alright, I suppose," Harry awkwardly replied.

The two could not have climbed the stairs faster.

"What do you reckon she's lost?" Hermione asked Ron once they were alone. She tried to resist a smile.

"Her dignity," Ron replied without skipping a beat.

Hermione laughed for a moment, but Ron could not ignore the pain in her eyes.

"Hermione, can we go upstairs too?" Ron suggested, lightly.

"I'm not going to help you find anything, Ron."

Ron stood up and helped her stand, gentlemanly. "I know."

"Or lose anything for that matter."

Ron chuckled. "No, I just want to talk right now."

"Ron Weasley wants to talk? Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Her smile was straight and pearl white, the product of two dentists for parents, no doubt.

They made their way up the creaky staircase to the top floor and stepped inside Ron's room.

Chudley Cannons posters littered the walls. The stack of Ron's handed-down seventh year books, which he never ended up using, sat on his desk in an unsturdy pile. Although he had just arrived, dirty clothes already littered the floor.

"Only _you _would find a way to make it so messy already," Hermione teased.

Ron laughed as he shut the door behind them. Determined, he walked across his small room and sat at the edge of his twin bed, leaving enough room for Hermione to sit adjacent to him.

"Way to be subtle, Ron," Hermione joked.

"Like I said, we're talking," he assured her.

Hermione, understanding as she was, joined him.

"Listen, Hermione, I hate when you fret over the fact that you're muggle-born."

"I don't _fret_ over being muggle-born. What everyone says and thinks is what hurts. We're living in a world run by arrogant wizards who think that ancestry is everything."

Ron cut in, "You know that most of them scapegoat muggle-borns to distract from the fact that they are half-bloods or have a Squib in the family."

"I know." Hermione nodded.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Ron told her.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, Ron."

That was the first time he had ever heard her say those words. He didn't even think using them in that sequence was in her lexicon.

"Hermione," Ron looked deep into her shining, dark brown eyes. "You're spectacular. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

Hermione nodded, smiling a little more. He had cheered her up, clearly, but only in the short run.

Suddenly, Ron realized that he had his arm around Hermione. He quickly moved it onto his lap; he didn't want her to think that they could not have a serious conversation without him touching her in any way.

"Was I actually distracting you during the chess match?" Hermione coyly asked.

Ron shrugged. "A bit, yes."

Hermione looked at him and tipped her head. "A bit?"

Ron confessed, "I was thinking about the Wizard Cards." He thought she would roll her eyes and tell him that his girlfriend was more important than a piece of paper.

Hermione leaned forward and burst into laughter. "Ron, you're so-"

Ron lunged forward and planted a kiss on her mouth. He hadn't meant to. It came out of nowhere.

Hermione looked caught off guard, but not irritated like he thought she might have been. She smiled a little and looked down at her hands, which were folded on her lap.

Ron and Hermione hadn't kissed since the night of the battle, when they had acted in the heat of the moment. Every time they were alone since then, they sat with each other, holding hands and chatting lightly. _She _had kissed _him_ that night; Ron didn't have the guts to initiate anything before now.

Ron's ears turned red as they sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Well?" Hermione politely urged. "Aren't you going to kiss me again?"

Ron faced her. Her eyes looked up at him again, begging him to continue what he started. His ears turned back to their original color as he leaned forward and gave her a long, soft kiss.

Hermione giggled when their lips broke apart.

"What?" Ron asked her, self-consciously.

"I'm sure you didn't snog Lavendar like that," she teased him.

He knew she wasn't being serious with him, but he still gave her an honest response. "I didn't respect her the way I respect you."

For some reason, Hermione's face became serious when he said that. Serious, but pleased.

Ron leaned forward again, but this time, put more pressure against her lips.

Hermione responded by putting her hands around his neck and tilting her head a bit to the right for easier access.

The house was quiet around them. Nothing could be heard other than the faint sounds of the radio that Mrs. Weasley was listening to while cooking.

Hermione moved her hands for a moment, only to move Ron's from his own personal space and onto hers. She placed each of his hands on the curve on either side of her small hips.

Even though their mouths were barely parted, Ron felt extremely intimate with her. Nothing that he had experienced with Lavendar would even compare to the moments he spent just kissing Hermione.

After what felt like hours of snogging, Hermione parted her lips from his and whispered, "Shall we go downstairs for dinner?"

Ron sighed loudly, causing Hermione to chuckle. He stood up and held out a hand to help her to her feet.

"I wonder if Harry and Ginny are still up to whatever the bloody hell they're up to," Ron said, somewhat through his teeth.

"For all we know, they could have just been kissing too," Hermione suggested.

"I hope so," Ron replied. "We're all too young to have little Potters running around."

They arrived downstairs and sat at the dinner table, joining Mr. Weasley, whom had just arrived home from work, and Mrs. Weasley, whom was dishing generous portions out to everyone.

"Hey, Dad," Ron greeted. "How was work?"

Today was the first day that Arthur Weasley had gone back to work since the battle. He was eager all morning, but he seemed to be calm at the table.

"Great, actually. They're reconstructing the fountain back into the original form. I don't know if you've seen it recently, but it was quite horrible."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other discreetly. Though they would never share this information with Ron's naïve parents, they had seen it up close during their Ministry break-in.

Harry and Ginny came downstairs then. Ginny seemed casual, but Harry acted somewhat stiff.

"What are we having, Mum? I'm starving!" Ginny exclaimed as she sat next to her father, whom was at the head of the table, and Harry.

"Worked up an appetite, eh?" Ron interrogated.

Hermione kicked his leg under the table.

"Funny, Ron," Ginny snapped. "No, I'm so hungry because _someone _decided to eat all of the sandwiches that mum prepared earlier."

"I was hungry." Ron mumbled, defensively, slouching in his seat a bit.

"It's okay, Ginny. Those crumbs were lovely." Hermione winked at Ron.

"Never mind." Mrs. Weasley shook her head at the nonsense of the sibling rivalry that was going on at her dinner table. "Tuck in!"

Ron dove into his turkey leg.

"How are you today, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione pleasantly asked as she cut her white meat gracefully.

"Good, thanks for asking, dear." Mrs. Weasley grinned back at her. "I got a bit of knitting done." She looked at Ron. "I fixed that tear in your sweater, Ron."

"Oh," Ron said with his mouth full. "Great." Even the hideous maroon disaster of a Weasley sweater could get out of a war unharmed.

Mr. Weasley began talking to Harry about the Ministry of Magic. Harry nodded as Mr. Weasley spoke, quite interested to know about its progress.

"What did you three do today?" Mrs. Weasley asked Ron and Hermione.

"I finished reading a book about the Goblin Rebellions. It was very fascinating," Hermione said.

"Er," Ron felt like his day of laying on the couch and playing games with Ginny would sound childish next to Hermione's intelligent answer. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that."

Just then, a hunched figure came into the kitchen through the den. All side conversations seized and everyone's eyes drew to it.

"Hey, there, Georgie. Would you like to join us for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley suggested, sweetly.

George Weasley shook his head and efficiently piled food onto a plate in a disorderly manner. His face lacked any sort of life and his eyes were bright red. He looked as if he hadn't bathed or shaved in days. He swiftly left the kitchen and hastily climbed the stairs.

Nobody said a word about this; they all knew better not to.

Once everyone finished eating, Mrs. Weasley stood and nonverbally cast the dishes into the sink. They began to clean and stack themselves back into the cupboards.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "It was delicious."

"Yes, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry added.

"Thanks, mum," Ron and Ginny said out of unison.

"You're all very welcome." Mrs. Weasley grinned at the four teenagers.

They disappeared into Ginny's room, mostly due to the fact that it was much tidier than Ron's.

Ginny plopped onto her bed. "I can't believe he didn't join us again," she whispered, confidentially.

"He's been through a lot, Ginny. He needs time to cope." Harry sat next to her and put his arm around her.

"I know. It's just that we're all trying to cope, but we're not acting _this_ extreme." She sighed.

Harry rubbed her back to comfort her.

"There's a difference though," Hermione cut in. Her voice was uneven and her eyes were full of sorrow. "He was Fred's_ twin_. That's a connection that none of us can compare to."

Everyone else sat in silence for a moment, processing what Hermione said.

"Identical twins have this sort of attachment to each other even when they're separated," Hermione explained. "George is used to having someone whom thinks similarly and looks at life with the same approach. It's a shock to him, I imagine."

Ginny looked down. "I haven't even thought of that."

Nobody spoke for a minute.

"He needs a funeral," Hermione stated.

"Are you mad?" Harry replied.

"Of course not. It's just… it's been a week and the idea of a funeral hasn't even been brought up," Hermione said.

"There's no way my family is ready for that, Hermione," Ginny told her, gravely. "Can you imagine my mum further torturing herself over this?"

"That's a horrible thought, Ginny."

"It's a horrible _idea_, Hermione!" Ginny shot back at her. She blinked hard to prevent the tears from falling.

Harry quietly shushed her and rubbed her shoulders.

"Let's talk about something else," Hermione suggested.

Ginny nodded slowly.

However, nothing came to their minds. All they could think about was George.

"I'm going to… er… clean my room," Ron said before leaving the room. He couldn't handle the awkwardness any longer.

However, Hermione was obviously too smart to look past this lie. She chased him up the last staircase and blocked his path.

"Hermione, please—" Ron tried to get around her.

"Ron, let's talk," Hermione firmly stated.

"I'd rather not." Ron groaned. He knew he would be in for a nag.

"Please, Ron?" Hermione pleaded. Her sad eyes were enough to make him give in.

He sat far back on his bed, resting his long legs on the unmade comforter.

Hermione began pacing in front of him. "Ron, that was completely insensitive of you to leave Ginny, your own sister, sad and alone." She continued to go on like this for thirty or so seconds. Ron zoned in and out, but watched her as if he was listening intently.

Finally, Hermione sat on the edge of his bed, next to his feet. "Don't you think Fred deserves a funeral? Nothing too over-the-top, mind you, just something to respect his memory."

Ron shrugged. "It isn't up to us. It's up to my parents, and when they think George is ready."

Hermione sighed. "You Weasleys can be so stubborn, you know that?" She searched his face for a moment. With a surprised smile, she asked, "And what are you smirking about, Ron?"

Ron didn't attempt to hide his expression. He simply stated, "I know you're angry with me, but despite that, you just look really beautiful right now."

Hermione's face reddened. She tilted her head down to hide her smile and leaned a bit to the right. When she regained her composure, she joked, "You know how to get yourself out of any situation, don't you, Ron?"

Ron nodded, proudly.

Hermione squeezed in next to him, leaning her head against the nook between his armpit and shoulder and laying with her feet adjacent to his.

Ron put an arm around her, keeping her from falling off the small bed.

Hermione exhaled in relaxation. "Just think about what I said, okay?" she calmly told him.

Ron nodded. "I'm sure they'll be strong soon."

Hermione didn't respond. She just inhaled the boy smell, basking in the smell of musk and worn-off deodorant.

At that moment, there was no war, no death… just Hermione.

••••••••••••••••••••

Readers,

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I love Ron and Hermione as a couple, so writing about them was a pleasure. Ron's tenseness with Hermione _will _fade, not to worry. Several aspects of what I wrote about their relationship are inspired by my own relationship. Ron tends to act on impulses, while Hermione _knows_ her intentions, providing an interesting contrast in my opinion.

George's depression is very important to the beginning of the story, as it sets the mood for the rest of the Weasleys and prevents them from moving on. It will be more relevant in the chapters to come, so be patient, all.

Keep reading! Remember, I _love _reviews and constructive criticism.

-Lexi


	3. Night Terrors

**Night Terrors**

The day the Weasley family, Harry, and Hermione returned to the Burrow following the Battle at Hogwarts, they all dispersed, speaking minimally and minding their own businesses. George escaped to his room. Mr. Weasley sat in his chair with the Daily Prophet and a mug of coffee, his favorite Muggle drink. Harry and Ginny sat in each other's laps on the couch, rubbing each other's shoulders. Ron stuffed his face with sweets, of course, while Hermione had her nose in a book. Mrs. Weasley, however, attempted to stay positive. She sang Celestia Warbeck while sweeping without magic, a rare occurrence.

Hermione remembered the moment Mrs. Weasley's humming came to a halt when she began sweeping the den. All of a sudden, she froze in her tracks and stared at the floor. At this point, the family had their eyes on her. She kneeled and reached for something that was underneath the old family clock. She held something small in her hand and gazed down at it with tears in her eyes.

The clock hand with the name "Fred" was cradled in her hands. It was dusty and the face that used to be smiling and vibrant had become lifeless.

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. Mr. Weasley ran to her side and tried to help her to her feet. She refused to respond to him; she remained hollering on the floor, clutching the only remnants of her son.

This was six days ago.

Hermione returned her thoughts to her book. She had unconsciously read ten pages without even realizing it. With a sigh, she flipped the pages back to the last section she remembered.

The front door opened aggressively. Ron, Harry, and Ginny strutted through the door, covered in dirt and sweat.

Hermione dog-eared the page of her book and closed it on her lap. "How was Quidditch?"

"Bloody hilarious!" Ginny exclaimed, entering the den, broom in hand. "You should've seen Ron flailing around!" 

Ron groaned. "I was _not _flailing around. I was blocking the goals."

"Blocking the goals?" Ginny laughed. "You barely saved _any _of my goals."

Harry shrugged and put his arm around her. "Well, you _are _good, Ginny."

"Besides," Ron added. "I haven't played Quidditch in over a year. I'm pretty rusty." He put his broom down and plopped on the couch next to Hermione.

Hermione normally would have felt a little excluded from their afternoon of fun, but she chose to be alone that day. She had to catch up on her reading. Plus, that usually took her mind off other things.

"I call the shower first!" Ginny announced before trotting up the stairs.

Harry sat on the chair across from the couch.

"Ginny's a great player, Ron. Do you think she'd ever go professional?" Harry wondered.

Ron shrugged. "She got shitty OWLs. I reckon she hasn't got many other options."

Harry leaned forward and punched his friend in the arm.

"She got mostly acceptables," Hermione said.

Ron shrugged.

"Well, _I _happen to think she's brilliant." Harry's voice sounded both confident and a bit awkward. He knew Ron wasn't completely comfortable with their relationship yet, but standing up for his girlfriend was an obligation.

All of a sudden, the sound of an owl's cry sounded outside.

The three shot their heads up in surprise. Ron stood and made his way over to the closest window. He opened it slowly, allowing the large, tawny owl to present the envelope that was attached to its leg.

Ron attempted to reach for the letter, but the owl pulled away. It screeched in warning.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Do either of you have any money?" he asked his friends.

Harry reached in his pocket and tossed two bronze coins to him.

Ron placed the Knuts in the owl's pouch before it finally offered its leg to him. He gently detached the envelope from its clutches. "Thanks," he said. The owl spread its long wings and took flight, departing the Burrow.

"What is it, mate?" Harry asked.

Hermione replied, "I bet it's another request for an interview, Harry. It's all right. You don't have to respond yet. They'll probably find out about how your interview with Anabelle Chadwick went and won't ask another—"

"It's for you, Hermione," Ron blankly stated.

Hermione's head shot in his direction. "F-for me?" she stuttered.

Ron nodded slowly.

"Well, who's it from?" Hermione asked.

Ron didn't reply. He stared at the envelope with uneasiness in his eyes. For a moment, he looked lost.

Hermione stood up and snatched the letter from him.

**Hermione Jean Granger**

**The Burrow**

**Devon, England**

She flipped the letter over to see a symbol that almost made her jaw drop.

"What is it?" Harry repeated.

Hermione stared at the back of the envelope. There it was: the large H in the center of the shield. The snake, the eagle, the badger, and, of course, the lion, all stared up at her. Finally, she regained the ability to speak.

"It's H-Hogwarts." Her voice cracked.

Harry's eyebrows raised.

"Well?" Ron asked her. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Hermione glanced at him for a moment. Why he looked so upset, she had no idea, but she gingerly ripped the seal and opened the envelope. She took the thick piece of folded parchment from it and looked at each of the boys before unfolding it.

The format of the letter looked the same as her Hogwarts letter. The font was the same, official as always.

"Read it," Harry urged.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Dear Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you— Oh!" She yelped and brought her hands to her face. She began to laugh with glee, a wide grin forming on her face.

Ron took the letter from her hand and held it in front of his own face. He read it aloud while Hermione tried to contain her apparent enthusiasm.

**Dear Ms. Hermione Jean Granger,**

** We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected among several students to be Head Girl of the upcoming school year at Hogwarts. It will entail several responsibilities, but we believe that you are qualified for the job.**

** We understand the conditions that may prevent you from filling these duties, and because of this, we have a backup if you are not willing.**

** As you know, term begins on September 1. Please reply to this letter, stating if you will or will not be returning next year, by July 1.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall**

**Headmistress**

Hermione continued to laugh and smile. Harry and Ron, however, stared at each other, puzzled.

When she noticed their ill attitudes, Hermione said, "What's wrong? Aren't you happy for me?"

Ron cleared his throat loudly. "It's just…" He looked at Harry again. "We didn't think any of us would go back."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Of course I'm going back. You're not?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet," Harry replied, quietly.

"And you, Ron?" Hermione looked a bit disappointed with him.

"It's just… I feel like when we go back, it's not going to be the place where we snuck out late at night or played Quidditch or copied Hermione's homework."

"Hey!" Hermione objected, although she didn't look angry.

"Well, it won't be that. It'll just be the place where all those bad memories happened and where I watched my brother die." Ron looked at his feet.

"What about our N.E.W.T.s?" Harry wondered.

Ron shrugged. "You're Harry bloody Potter. _You_ won't needs N.E.W.T.s to be qualified for Auror training. You saved the world… several times."

"What about you? You helped!" Harry said.

Ron rolled his eyes. "The newspapers don't give a shit about me. All they care about is their 'Chosen One' and their headlines." He seemed to shrink a bit when he said, "I'm just the sidekick."

"That's a lie!" Harry cried. "I wouldn't have been able to 'save the world' if you two hadn't been by my side."

They were silent for a moment.

Hermione added, "I just think it might be nice to finish, that's all."

The boys were quiet.

"I'll just let you think about it, I suppose," she mumbled, sitting back in her seat. She grabbed an extra quill that sat on the coffee table and took a loose piece of parchment in her hand.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, aggressively.

"Writing back to Professor McGonagall, of course."

Ron stared back down at his muddy feet, lost for words.

Ginny ran down the stairs, dressed casually. Her wet auburn hair hung limply on her shoulders.

She seemed to know that something was up. "What did I miss?" she cautiously questioned them.

"Nothing," Ron stated. "I'll be in the shower."

Without another word, Ron bolted up the stairs.

Ginny approached Harry and sat close to him. "What _did _I miss, Harry?"

"I'm Head Girl!" Hermione burst, losing the stiffness from the last conversation.

Ginny's face lit up. "Merlin, Hermione! That's fantastic!"

Hermione blushed. "I can't wait."

Ginny's smile faded. "So _that_'s what you were all on about before, isn't it?"

Harry cautiously nodded. "How did you know?"

"I caught bits of what you said while I was getting dressed," she replied. Pondering for a moment, she continued. "Ron has been stubborn his entire life, but I can't see why he wouldn't want to go back."

Harry shrugged. "He feels like there's nothing left for him there."

Ginny turned to him. "Hypothetically, if you were to go back, what would your reasoning be behind it?"

Harry seemed to get lost in his thoughts. "Hogwarts was the first home I've ever had. Not going back there would feel strange." He paused. "But then again, going back would be equally strange."

"And why is that?" Hermione asked.

"Ron pretty much said it all. It's not going to be the same. It is filled with all of those bad memories—"

"And good memories, Harry!" Hermione suggested. "You defeated Lord Voldemort that night. You saved the world."

Harry sighed. "I hate when people say that. I didn't do it single-handedly."

"And we know that!" Ginny said.

"But," Hermione continued. "Don't just think of the negatives. Your choice should be based on how comfortable or uncomfortable you would feel approaching Auror camps without N.E.W.T.s or a finished education."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry stated. Suddenly, realizing how egotistical that statement sounded, he backtracked. "What I mean is… camps won't need to see my prior experience in the form of a degree, right? They've already seen the newspapers. They know who I am and what I am capable of."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "How humble of you."

Hermione and Ginny chuckled for a moment.

"I'll get back to you, alright?" Harry told them.

Ginny nodded. Hermione put her quill back to the parchment and continued to write rigorously.

"Hermione," Harry began, causing Hermione to stop her work. He paused, looking into her sad brown eyes. "You'll be a great Head Girl."

Hermione tried to hide her grin as she neatly continued her acceptance statement.

••••••••••••••••••

Ron pulled his pajama pants up and plopped onto his bed.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Harry sitting on his cot, fiddling around with the Snitch that Dumbledore had given to him in his will. He released it for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it again, then repeated the process. Harry clung to that Snitch like it was the last remaining piece of Dumbledore that he had.

"Do you think I was too harsh early?" Ron wondered, leaning against his headboard.

Harry glanced up at him briefly before shaking his head. "She gets it, mate. You don't want to go back. She isn't pushing you."

Ron hesitated. "Am I pushing her though? To not go back, I mean."

Harry's hand clamped over the Snitch completely, causing its wings to stop fluttering. "No matter how much you try to convince her to not go back, she's going to go back. It's Hermione Granger we're talking about here."

Ron shrugged, his mouth twitching into a little smile. "Alright."

All that was heard for a few minutes was the sound of the Snitch, flapping its wings, trying to escape Harry's clutches.

"So," Ron began, pivoting the subject. "Are you and Ginny serious yet?" It was a question that he was curious about but, at the same time, that he did not want to hear the answer to.

Harry nodded gravely. "Do you remember when we had to leave after the wedding? We didn't really have time to say goodbye to anyone."

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Mum was bloody terrified. Anyway, what does that have to do with Ginny?'

"Well, part of me didn't want to leave, obviously. I mean, I really do love her and being apart from her was difficult." Harry paused. "But another part of me wanted to bring her along."

"Mate?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Harry laughed to himself. "I know that sounds odd. I mean, no man wants to put his girlfriend through danger like that. But I feel like Ginny is the kind of girl who can handle herself."

"You're mental," Ron chuckled.

"What about you and Hermione?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged, smirking a bit. "I was more worried about myself than about her."

Harry laughed hard. "Merlin, mate!"

Ron clarified, "Not that way! I just mean that she's better at magic, and nearly everything else, than I am." He cleared his throat. "I wasn't as worried about death itself than the idea of Hermione being heartbroken by my absence."

Harry paused. "Deep, mate." He nodded slowly, awkwardly.

Ron cleared his throat. "Just because you're serious with my sister doesn't mean you should be having sex with her."

Harry's eyes remained on the Snitch, not Ron's eyes.

"Got it?" Ron added.

Harry sighed. "I know. Just because a relationship is serious doesn't mean sex is necessary. I'm not a boy, Ron. I can control myself."

Ron nodded quickly. "Well, good."

"Have you tried anything with Hermione yet?" Harry wondered.

Ron's head shot in his direction. "The fact that we've been officially together for a week and you already think we're having sex worries me."

Harry chuckled. "It's just a question."

Ron shook his head. "Nothing bigger than what you saw before."

"What, eating each other's faces off?" Harry laughed.

Ron threw a pillow at his head.

••••••••••••••••••••

"NOOOOOOO! TAKE ME INSTEAD!"

Ron's eyes jerked open.

"STOP IT! STOP HURTING HIM! STOP!"

Ron turned onto his side, facing Harry's cot.

Harry's night terrors occurred on a nightly basis; they weren't even worth interrupting. Every night at approximately 2:00 a.m., Harry hollered at the top of his lungs for about five minutes straight.

Ron pondered these outbursts. _Who _was being hurt in them? Was it Fred or Lupin or Mad-Eye? Or could it be Dumbledore or Sirius, who were both long dead?

Finally, Harry's yelling stopped. Ron pulled the blanket up to his chin and drifted back to sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••

Readers,

I apologize immensely for the long delay. I've been going through the Early Action college application process, and let me tell you, although I am almost finished, it is taking a huge toll on me. Not to worry, I will keep you updated with how everything turns out. It feels great to have everything off my plate… for now.

One thing that was seldom done by J.K. Rowling is the perception of Hermione. I want to capture the side of her that readers don't see. She is fragile like everyone else. She just isn't as obvious about it as others are.

In some ways, Ron is just as fragile as anyone else is, but, like Hermione, he is more private about his emotions. His desire of remaining at home and moving on rather than going back to Hogwarts starts to show his true side.

Don't forget about the night terrors. They will come back later.

Keep reading and reviewing!

-Lexi


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